


Dancing with Shadowsong

by Viscount_Vampyre



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Escape, Forgiveness, Gen, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Swords & Sorcery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-21 05:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21069560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viscount_Vampyre/pseuds/Viscount_Vampyre
Summary: Defeated and captured by her greatest foe, Maiev Shadowsong has lost everything... But now that Illidan is dead, it's dawned on her that she's nothing without him. What more can she live for except maybe... to see home again?Read and review SVP! Any comments or suggestions would be much appreciated!





	1. The Owl in the Iron Cage

Dancing with Shadowsong

Prologue

At the roof of the world Lord Illidan met with the Death Knight Arthas and attempted to finish the battle which they had begun in the Felwood…

After a titanic clash Prince Arthas eventually slew the hunter-turned-demon and ascended to the spire of the Frozen Throne, fulfilling his destiny to become one with the Lich King.

Shattered by their defeat at the hands of the Scourge and the death of their beloved leader Lady Vashj retreated; with her remaining Naga in tow, abandoning Prince Kael’thas and his people to find their own way back from Northrend…

The alliances and motley crew which Illidan had so painfully assembled quickly failed without his leadership, and the foothold he had established in Outland soon received word that the lord of the shattered realm had fallen.

Among his former comrades now waged a war of succession. Lieutenants and beasts each began fighting one another for dominion over the crumbled realm which had been so costly taken by the former demon hunter.

These Diadochi would scramble for any parts of Draenor which they could control, putting to the sword their former allies without a second thought, all for the sake of establishing their own dynasties.

Akama leader of the Ashtongue tribe, Prince Kael’thas and his Blood Elves, even Lady Vashj and her Naga… Among countless captains, lieutenants, and generals began warring, and all manner of underhanded blackness in the chaotic wake of their former master’s death.

Yet this tale is not of these conflicts…

Forgotten, below the concerns of these high lords playing their games, Illidan’s greatest trophy; a broken huntress, has finally heard the news: her quarry and greatest foe is dead…

…

Chapter One: the Owl in the Iron Cage

Emaciated and dressed in tattered rags the former Warden, Maiev Shadowsong lay upon the cool stone floor of her cell.

Time upon the broken world, she found, passed strangely, and without sight of the beloved moon of her homeland she’d become lost amidst the passing flow as hours turned to days, to weeks, and beyond.

Having watched the last of her warriors perish in ambush, and the victory of her re-capture of Illidan snatched from her grip, the once-proud Kaldorei had become as broken as the world she was trapped upon.

Occasionally Illidan had come to see and inspect the prison he had built specifically to house her.

Through sheer defiance or exhaustion Maiev had remained silent during the gloating of her prey-turned-predator.

Eventually Illidan’s appearances waned and she learned from her guards that he had left the broken world on a mission of his own…

After which time; neglect became as much one of her jailors as the guardsmen.

Defeat had sapped her strength, which was to say nothing of the magical torture she had endured prior to her imprisonment. As a small measure of vengeance for his ten millennia as her ward Illidan caused the Kaldorei more pain than she imagined was physically endurable…

Almost all essence of magic had been rended from her body as spell after spell assaulted her naked form.

Scourges had been employed too, and the once unmarred skin of the woman was sicklied over with scars beyond count. Beaten and left hanging by her arms she’d felt such indignities that she couldn’t have fathomed.

The malice which she had reaped in Illidan culminated in an act which drew the last of her tears: with a brutish blade the demon had cut her hair to its roots.

Throughout her tortures she had defied the demon his aim; he had wanted to utterly break her. And even though all those who had followed her from Kalimdor had perished, even though she had been defeated and made a prisoner, she had been able to resist.

She had defied his claws, his words, his touch, and the whips and scorns of the barbed scourges.

Yet nearer the end she had begun to crack. And with something as simple as the cutting of her hair, she had finally broken.

As the full focus and force of Illidan’s rage came to bear on her Maiev screamed so loud as to shake the very bricks of her prison, she wept so deeply for the folly of her maddened quest, and the guilt of her failures came upon her in such fury that she had no tears, and no screams left when it was over.

Stripped of her armour, wearing ill-covering and filthy rags, Maiev slowly starved in utter darkness.

A guardsman would check on Illidan’s trophy once a day, and it was during that time which she received a paltry meal of cold broth.

Though she had tried to count the days by the number of daily rations, she’d long since forgotten such a count. Instead, when she thought of time she used the rate of her hair’s regrowth as a sort of calendar.

Yet even this could not be relied on… with next to nothing to eat, her once vibrant hair dulled in its lustre, and its return slowed, becoming cruelly brittle to her own touch.

…

Dragging her calloused and thin fingers along the masonry Maiev weakly moved her hand towards her face in the pitch-black of her cell.

With her right ear pressed to the cold floor she could hear the reverberations of approaching footfalls.

A sad excitement fluttered in her heart… Having become accustomed to the significance which the torch-bearing guard represented she knew that for a brief few moments she could stave off the ever present pain in her body by eating.

Letting out a rasping, awful, groan Maiev pushed her palms to the floor and lifted her bony frame from the warm spot she’d been occupying since waking.

As part of her routine she dragged her body towards the door to her cell, craning to see around the bend in the hall through the iron bars at the approaching guard.

Breathing heavily from the exertion of merely moving herself a few feet she leaned against the cold wrought iron for support as she waited.

Flickers of light began to beam down the hall and then she discerned more than one pair of footfalls in the bleak underground prison.

At first she simply furrowed her nearly bare brow. But then fear began to return, digging its icy fingers into her heart.

Pushing herself off the bars she fell to the floor with a dull smack against the stone.

Groaning in pain and beginning to pant in shallow breaths she dragged herself towards one of the corners of her cell…

Her favourite corner actually.

Its stones were somehow smoother to her, and in moments of panic, fear, or general pain she’d crawl to the embrace of this corner and caress her cheek against one of these smooth stones. This simple and sad action had become Maiev’s only private consolation and companion in her imprisonment.

Behind her the footfalls grew louder and the light of the torch grew closer.

Her hungry and fear-drowned mind finally formed words as she crawled into her corner, ‘What if… what if it’s…?’

Within the security of the walled corner she risked a look behind.

“Is she even still alive?”

“Aye my lord, as per the master’s… instruction, we’ve ensured that his trophy still draws breath.”

The first voice scoffed, before coughing, “If this smell is any indication I would hardly equate mere breathing with _life_.”

The footfalls slowed until finally the entourage arrived at the bars of Maiev’s cell.

Shielding her eyes, and cowering, the Kaldorei avoided viewing her tormentors for as long as she could.

“There she is my lord.” a new voice announced.

“There she is indeed…” the first voice replied.

Slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the painful light Maiev lowered her hands from shielding her brow.

Strands of her weak, stringy, and thin hair fell this way and that and she began shivering as she attempted to wipe them off her cheeks and nose, suddenly ashamed at being viewed by so many eyes. The guards were none of the jailors which she had seen before, even their leader was one she did recognise.

As if understanding her wordless terror Akama cleared his throat and lowered to a crouch while meeting her eye.

“I have come to tell you something elf-kin.”

Maiev grit her teeth and held her breath as she continued to shiver.

“I bring word from Azeroth.”

At this Maiev let slip a shudder and loud whimper.

“Lord Illidan and his forces failed the Burning Legion.”

Catching her breath mid-action the Kaldorei’s shivering ceased as she stared back at Akama.

“I’ve heard that he was merely defeated, yet some say he’s dead…” he paused, “whatever the case may be, all those once loyal to him and his cause have turned upon one another.”

The aged Draenei exhaled a weary breath.

“Battle lines have been drawn, armies mustered, and allegiances declared.”

Maiev’s mouth hung open as she inhaled shallow, ragged, breaths through her dry and cracked lips.

“I did not know of Illidan’s quarrel with you, I disagreed with his execution of revenge, and I continued to protest many of his decisions.”

Bowing the old creature blinked as he avoided the prisoner’s gaze, “I have been elected once more by my people to lead them now that _he_ is gone.”

“To that end I have vowed to set right much of the ill which has been wrought.”

Maiev swallowed heavily.

“There is nothing which I can do to rectify the… _evil_ which he has brought to others.”

One of the Ashtongue men began unlocking the cell’s door.

“But perhaps I may give you back your freedom?”

Leaning back into her corner, deflated, Maiev’s voice finally came from her tongue.

She hadn’t spoken aloud in months… perhaps even years… and the noise was meek and hollow, weakly sounding into the gloom

“_The huntress is nothing… without the hunt._”

Fresh, silent tears began to fall down her cheeks, much to her own surprise as she had long believed herself to have become barren to such expression of emotion…

Akama looked up, furrowing his brow in pain at the sight before him as the woman continued,

“_If Illidan is truly dead… then I am become nothing, without him._”

Almost in disbelief the Draenei asked, “Elf-kin, do you not feel some measure of release?”

The door was pushed open and the guards each looked upon the Kaldorei pitifully.

Ignoring their expressions she replied, “I feel… nothing.”

Letting her eyes wander towards the ceiling Maiev whispered, repeating herself, “I am… nothing.”

Slowly stepping into the cell Akama extended his hand towards the thin prisoner, as if answering her statement he countered, clarifying and correcting her words,

“You are _free_.”

Slowly turning her head to see the elderly creature Maiev blankly looked back into his deep blue, foreign, eyes.

Weakly raising her hand she planted her thin and fragile fingers into Akama’s.

With utter honesty she admitted aloud what she was thinking, “I don’t know what that means.”

Like regarding a sickly infant Akama’s face contorted as he struggled to hear the rawness and truth from the being before him.

He looked down and shut his eyes for a long while, deeply considering his response.

Nodding, he finally responded, “Perhaps you may learn that for yourself?”

…

It was painful, and it was hard work to make her atrophied legs return to life but eventually Maiev’s body responded to proper bedding, regular food, and the warmth of the hearth.

To say she mended is to embellish, to say that she now more resembled a living being is more accurate… And while Akama was busy waging war leading and defending his people the care of the warden was given over to those following his command.

Many of his people were apprehensive and feared the Kaldorei warden as a revenant, a foreign ghost who was visible only because of the sheer pain and hollowness she bore within her soul.

She was not oblivious to their apprehension and xenophobia, and as soon as she could walk she did so.

Disregarding those who were attempting to treat her Maiev Shadowsong set out alone, to wander Outland…

Her only accompaniment was a thickened cloak, and a hewn walking stick, said to have been as old as Akama himself.

And in the dead of night… with the foreign stars and sky of Draenor above her she left the shallow hospitality of the Ashtongue tribe and walked out of Shadowmoon Valley.

Trudging through the strange flora and avoiding the fauna within Terokkar Forest she eventually came to the familiar red sands and barren wasteland of the Hellfire Peninsula.

To see where she had been defeated and where the last of her followers had perished made the Kaldorei ache, vivid memories coming back to her of the surprising arrival of Illidan’s Naga, and that… that damned _Prince_.

Those upstart elves had gotten the better of her…

Pausing and leaning against her walking stick for support a violent wind blew and nearly knocked her over.

Resentment began to mount in her heart until, like sand amidst the tide, it fell away and she whispered to herself, “I suppose I’ve paid enough for that folly.”

Standing and enduring the howling wind around her until it abated Maiev adjusted the hood of her cloak before looking across the torn and scarred landscape.

Though she was entirely ignorant of the land when she had arrived, yet another score she’d paid dearly, Akama’s people had told her all of what she now needed to know…

Narrowing her eyes she squinted into the distance, tracing the innumerable lines of hills and ridges. She searched and searched until finally, amidst scattered ruins and long-dead battle fields of the fractured province she saw it.

A megalithic structure of grey stone jutting out of the red earth…

Colossal stairs led up towards an immense dais, with two columns on either side of the swirling green portal.

Upon seeing it Maiev could now _smell_ it. Magic blew across the land from the portal, and even at this distance the longer she looked at it the more she could hear and feel the emanating hum of its power.

Drawing a deep breath and stepping forwards the weary Kaldorei began across the barrens.

Disregarding how long it would take her…

Not caring about anything else, Maiev Shadowsong thought of only one thing: _Home._

The wind howled and battered her as she shuffled along, becoming more and more reliant on her walking stick.

Her breaths became shallower as she strained and forced her body to comply with her desire.

Tissue and muscle ached and knotted, sending waves of pain through her body as she continued to press on.

Looking up from her feet she scowled, biting her lips to stifle her pain and the noise she was making.

Slowing down from the horrible pain she began a mantra, repeating only the single word, home.

Under her breath she whispered it.

Forcing her legs to continue moving she fought on putting more and more of her weight onto her walking stick until finally across a sun scorched and dry cracked plain the aged wood tool broke with an echoing crack.

Falling to the rock hard ground elicited a cry of shock and surprise as Maiev crumpled.

Pushing herself to her knees she began forcing herself to crawl, until finally the pain of dragging herself along forced her to look at her body.

The bones of her left forearm were broken and already the skin was beginning to turn a deep blue as blood pooled under her flesh.

Rolling onto her back and gritting her teeth she eventually let out a wail of frustration.

Lying upon the hard stone she rested a spell before huffing shallowly.

“I’ve got to get up…”

She nodded and kept her left arm close to her chest as she repeated herself, “I’ve got to get up…”

Rolling back onto her knees she slowly pushed off the ground with her right hand until she stood once more.

Steadying herself she eventually began a slow limping pace, as directly as she could muster towards the portal.

_“I’m going home…”_ she whispered between heavy and ragged breaths.

Spittle formed at the edge of her dry lips and she coughed upon the harsh blowing sand.

“I… am… going… home.”

…

Falling to the ground from exhaustion Maiev extended her right hand and had dragged herself several yards before finally she could move no more.

Her eyes dried and her heavy lids fluttered as she extended her fingers, clawing at the sight of the massive portal still so far away.

Despite the days of travel beforehand, and the hours she’d wasted on the Hellfire Peninsula it appeared that she was no closer to the stone portal than when she first beheld it.

With pain cloaking her, and the wind whipping over her, Maiev’s hand finally fell.

She was no sooner going to touch her fingers to the stone as the stone was going to travel to her.

Her strength utterly sapped the Kaldorei could no longer hold up the weight of her head, and as it fell into the dirt her heavy eyelids closed and she succumbed to darkness.

…

“Them carrion birds seem to have found somethin’ o’er there.” A mercenary commented.

“Mhmm…” replied his employer.

Turning to see the man the mercenary furrowed his brow, “What, you’re not at all curious why them there buzzards are circling so _keenly_ o’er head?”

Quietly the two men continued riding their horses down the rocky red-dirt path.

Eventually the silent employer sighed and looked to the sky, exacerbated, before turning to his hired sell-sword.

“Fine!” he eventually declared, “By the gods if we don’t check it out you’ll be at me until we return to the Blasted Lands!”

Dryly chuckling to himself the sell-sword relished yet another victory against his employer.

“But after this you’re quiet of roadside curiosities, yes?”

“Oh aye…” the man responded playfully.

Raising an eyebrow and pursing his lips in disapproval the employer responded, “I swear you’ve spent far too much time with those Dwarves… It’s most crude, and unbecoming.”

Waving his hand in the air the sell-sword chuckled, “You’re far too uptight; years in Quel’Thalas ought to have done that to you, eh?”

“Sometimes, I fear you’re too familiar with your clients…”

Pursing his lips the man appeared to be deeply considering the point for a moment before nodding “Must be why I’m so cheap.”

…


	2. to Castle and Keep

Dancing with Shadowsong

Chapter Two: to Castle and Keep

“Well…” The mercenary announced.

His employer furrowed his brow and rubbed his stubble.

“That sure is one _dead_ looking elf.”

Looking up from the body in front of them the noble employer nodded, “She does certainly have a corpse-ish look about her.”

Adjusting his hold on his reins the employer pointed back towards the road, “Now, with your curiosity sated… Shall we?”

The mercenary furrowed his brow incredulously. “What? Y-you can’t be serious.”

Cocking and eyebrow and looking from his bodyguard to the dead elf the nobleman scoffed in disbelief, “You don’t think I’m wasting my time on this creature do you?”

The mercenary bodyguard opened his mouth to protest, but was quickly interrupted, “I came to these fractured lands on a specific errand; I am not yet done that errand. Anything and everything else is a distraction.”

Nodding and turning his horse the nobleman cleared his throat, “Now we’re going, I’ve spent enough time away from Azeroth already.”

Beginning to clop back towards the path the man called harshly, “Do you want to get paid or not?”

Pursing his lips in pain the mercenary slid from his saddle and stepped across the rocky sand towards the unmoving body.

“A moment’s all I need Darrion.”

At the sound of his voice and dismounting the pitiful creature finally moved, giving signs of life.

Seeing this the mercenary moved with a quickened pace, reaching to his belt he untied and loosened his water skin from its former mooring.

Noticing the approach of a person the she-elf struggled to move, dryly coughing as she extended her right hand to steady and raise her body.

Kneeling down at a few feet’s safe distance, the human mercenary offered his water.

“Georry!” the nobleman, Darrion, called.

Looking away and to his master the sell-sword furrowed his brow. Exhaling heavily the man turned back to the Kaldorei.

She’d since raised her head to see him and it seemed she was being driven by anger and resentment, and was held up by spite alone.

Her cracked and dry lips were pursed as she stared mutely at him.

Her features were gaunt and her hair fell wildly, thin strands blown about by the harsh sandy wind.

Her fingers were like that of a crone’s, boney and discoloured.

Her eyes weren’t the same glittering and enchanting gaze that he’d read and heard of the western elvish peoples, they were dull, and though she breathed, they seemed lifeless.

Now kneeling he could smell her too… She reeked of sweat and grime. Her clothes and cloak were tattered and the familiar scent of blood and sickness emanated from her.

She breathed laboriously, and her eyes seemed to bore into the human.

Pausing Georry blinked as he searched the woman’s dirty face.

He said nothing as he once again offered the water skin.

The wind swept over them as she silently held her eyes on him, not moving, and not saying a word.

Eventually Georry averted his eyes and laid the skin upon the sun-parched, cracked and dry ground.

Standing up and turning the man carried himself differently. Moving to his horse and gripping the saddle he put his boot into the stirrup and hoisted himself atop the mount.

Turning the horse ‘round Georry looked towards his master, by now the nobleman was a few yards distance down the path, and a strange debate was happening in the mercenary’s mind and heart.

Shaking his head he stalled his reunion with his patron, clearing his throat to sate his curiosity further, “What’s your name?”

“W-why are you even out here?” he added.

The woman looked down to the cracked red earth.

Turning in his saddle the mercenary was strangely distraught at the horrid appearance of the she-elf. Despite a lifetime of battlefields and grotesqueries it was the sight of an emaciated woman which had cut him deepest.

Looking back up from the ground the woman’s voice came out lyrically.

She sounded beautiful, and the words made Georry open his mouth and lose his breath. It was not the voice of a creature that ought to have looked as she did.

Yet her words were tinged with such emotion that he could only blink in response.

“Does it matter?”

Georry looked away and drew a heavy breath.

In the background, growing farther away, his master turned; his expression stern.

Blinking the mercenary shook his head again.

Cocking her head to the side and shifting her weight the woman looked at him, as if seeing through him. Tauntingly she shot him a sarcastic and defiant verbal jab, “An odd time, now; to choose morality…”

Furrowing his brow to respond the mercenary became interrupted, impatiently the nobleman had called once more, “_Georry!_”

Failing to be able to answer her, the mercenary pursed his lips and set spur to flank as his horse slowly began walking forwards and away from the ‘roadside curiosity’.

The Kaldorei watched for a short while before blinking and returning herself back to her previous position.

…

Rolling onto her back Maiev’s mind swirled with pain as she focused on breathing.

Her injured arm was throbbing such that it felt like a drum, vibrating the whole of her body.

It’d been over an hour since the humans found her and then left.

She’d counted the time by the motion of the celestial bodies visible above her and the gradual change in the sun’s angle. Though it was a foreign world she was sure that such motions were similar to Azeroth.

The whole while she’d also fought the temptation and urge to give in and consume the human’s water greedily.

She focused on her pain; even going so far as to count the pulses between throbs.

But over time that water seemed to become audible over the wind, the calls of the desert, and the blood flowing in her skull.

It was sloshing within the skin, even though it had remained motionless and deflated since the man had laid it to the ground.

It was so close…

Perspiring its’ precious cargo out the sides and into the desolated earth below.

The birds circling above finally made her exhale in weariness and turn to view the innocent skin.

Within her mind a voice spoke, until now she’d suppressed the majority of her inner monologue, it’d been merely her ego; self-flagellating and verbally berating and as such, dull companionship. But now the voice was one of resignation, and wholly unfamiliar…

‘Just take it you fool…’

Changing in tone the voice spoke matter-of-factly, ‘the sun shall be your executioner now… What harm is there in dying with a quenched thirst?’

It took only as much time to move as to agree with the voice.

Turning her head slowly Maiev looked at the leather skin with a desire greater than any carnal pleasure she’d ever known, and voice almost encouraged this, asking her: ‘Surely the last drink of the condemned is a good one?’

Once again, without sarcasm or malicious intent, the voice spoke matter-of-factly, ‘Having felled so many, and executed countless traitors, you know that their last meals were also their most desired… Their last words, the most profound or significant to them… So to shall it be with your drink.’

Reaching slowly for the leather Maiev strained and winced, letting slip moans and whimpers of pain as she took hold of the engorged, filled water skin.

Bringing the corked end to her mouth she drew her teeth to the stopper and spat it out of the way.

The water flowed onto her tongue and spilled from her mouth, shocking her with its coolness.

It continued to pour and she began coughing as it overflowed from the edges of her lips and she inhaled some of it.

Coughing and moving the skin from her mouth she spilt more onto her chest, soaking through the tattered clothing in several large spots through to her flesh.

“Gah! Cack, argh!” she screamed and coughed. Panic brought to her body a momentary vigour, as her retching abated enough for her to yell angered words.

“Damn this place!” she roared, her voice caught and she forced herself to roll, “Damn this desert! I curse you Illidan! _I curse you!”_

On her knees the Kaldorei warden quickly felt an emotional weight to her petulant and childish outburst.

Swallowing Maiev blinked before bringing the skin back to her lips.

Slower than the first time she began drinking again, and it seemed that as she drank her body had enough within it to weep at her shame.

Attempting to pace herself was a struggle and she brought about the last vestiges of her will to stop from consuming the whole of the skin on an empty stomach.

Pushing up with her knees she rose and began looking around for the cork stopper which she’d spat away, the while keeping her broken arm close to her chest.

Biting around the spout of the skin she reached for the cork with her good hand and creatively returned it to its hole.

Breathing heavily the Kaldorei looked to the ground as she relaxed into a kneeling sit.

A shadow passed in front of her and she looked upwards wearily.

‘The birds…’ she remarked. ‘I shall not have my eyes eaten by such pathetic creatures…’

Subduing a growl the warden pushed off her boney knees and forced herself into a hobbled stand.

“This… will _not_ be my last drink.”

Resolution began to burn in her heart as she took a step.

Her legs ached and the muscles burned but she took another step.

She held the water skin tightly as she looked ahead and walked.

Wincing as little as possible she huffed and strode forwards.

Her back tightened and the scar tissue across her flesh moved with a strange itching as she straightened.

Her neck was unused to being so upright.

But she walked on.

It was a slow pace and she stopped to steady herself or to keep from falling, occasionally letting out a more emphatic groan of pain.

Yet she maintained the mantra; ‘one foot after another… one foot… _one foot_.’

…

Time rolled onwards, and for all the distance she felt she had covered Maiev panted in frustration as she looked at how much farther she had to go.

The birds which had once been eyeing her with such keen interest now had flown, this way and that, in search of a less threatening prey.

Her activity and returned vigour disappointed the scavengers.

Looking up she was pleased that she was not longer deemed a meal by the lowly animals, but in turning skyward she saw that the sun had moved positions significantly.

Furrowing her brow and pausing in her slow, laborious march, the former warden voiced her confusion aloud, “How? I can’t have been walking since mid-day?”

Looking down the Kaldorei considered the strange change and blinked.

Pressing on she forced the next step, and the next.

Though it hadn’t felt like much time had passed light began to dim, and the night was soon cooling the world around her.

Climbing the sloping incline of a hillock of sandy rocks Maiev came to the top of a ridge, and for the first time, beheld the whole of the way to her goal.

Ruins of past battlefields stuck out here and there, yet more than that was the large human castle nearby the portal.

Activity danced nearby and she could see patrolmen on horseback surveying the immediate area of the fortification.

She saw that these iron-clad warriors were presumably the ones barring and controlling use of the portal itself. Some were lighting torches and along the crenellations braziers and sconces became alive with flames.

‘The night shall be upon you…’

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, curling at one corner in a smile of disbelief.

‘Elune blesses you even now… even here…’

Making her way down the other side of the strange dune she looked upwards as the sun began disappearing from view at an increased pace, obscured by floating chunks of the planet’s former continents.

Looking towards her goal she whispered aloud her thoughts, “I must get through that portal… I _will_ get through that blasted portal.”

Holding her broken arm under her breast, she brought the water skin to her mouth and bit the cork, spitting it away once again.

Finishing the remainder of the water she dropped the skin and let loose a heavy breath.

“Goddess, light my path…”

Her footfalls became more confident as she marginally increased her pace.

“Elune… speed a wayward daughter home.”

“May this moon above, give me the gifts of your blessed light.”

Melting away the pain dulled, the throbbing and aching of her whole body evapourate, and Maiev felt weightless.

She was apprehensive of the water in her otherwise empty stomach, but even that discomfiture fell away.

She breathed with a single purpose and her thin calves began propelling her with increasing speed.

Cutting her right hand through the air Maiev began running.

Almost unsure of the magic she felt in herself, she began chuckling in innocent disbelief as she erupted into a full blown sprint.

Her hair flowed in the air and cool wind caressed her cheeks as her naked feet gently hopped along the ground.

Sand was barely disturbed as she jumped from leg to leg, _running_.

Not a trace of pain flowed in her veins as she breathed freely and her diminished muscles functioned without any lack of ability.

Her prayer was answered, or perhaps she was in a mindset entirely of her own…or perhaps even intoxicated in some way.

She tilted her head as she drew closer to the castle and portal and could hear the words of the mortals.

‘They shan’t see me… they _shan’t_…’ she thought. ‘I will walk, like a breath of wind, like moonlight given form… and they shall not see me…’

Freedom had finally rung true in her soul, and Maiev felt excitement and joy as she came a mile from the portal… half a mile… a quarter…

With each effortless jumping step she came closer.

The chains of distance, the yards, each measure was shaved off and none could see her…

She was drawing nearer, and nearer.

The steps now were in front of her and at their proximity she finally felt a shiver in her heart as her filthy, bare, and bleeding feet made the dull slapping of contact upon the hewn stone.

Though she felt nothing, the activity and running had split her dry and weak skin on the balls of her feet. With the liquid of her blood in between her flesh and the steps she slipped unexpectedly on the now strangely smooth stone.

Throwing out her right arm and steadying herself Maiev caught her breath and slowed, taking a moment before she began planting one leg after another and climbing the straight stairs.

The portal reeked of magic, and it swirled and crackled in between the massive colossus on either side.

Lightning and energy reached out for purchase from the green magical doorway and as she climbed closer and closer she could feel the ethereal tethers reaching and circling around her, almost lifting her with each stair she climbed.

It was now drawing her into itself. Almost predatorily she could feel the desire for the portal to spirit her away.

“Goddess…” she whispered aloud.

Now stepping above the crown steps Maiev had arrived at the dais.

Reaching out her hand to the portal she felt herself physically pulled along the flat stone.

“_Home…”_

Exhaling she could feel the magic penetrating her pores. It crawled through her skin and she immediately remembered the journey she’d taken the first time to arrive to the broken world.

It was sickening, and wholly unpleasant. Like fire burning from the inside out.

The magical discomfort grew and grew until finally she let loose a roar and threw herself from the mooring of the ground and into the embrace of the dark portal.

Sound turned to light and weight to air as she felt as if she was falling, upwards.

She tumbled this way and that, screaming yet making no noise, feeling things around her, but her fingers touching nothing, until finally she arrived onto another place.

Stunned and disoriented Maiev blinked, her tongue mute and mouth agape, still feeling the weightless arms of the portal at her back she took a single step from between the two sides of the doorway.

Her pain, the broken arm, the weary muscles, the exhaustion, the nausea… Everything which Elune’s blessed grace had kept at bay returned.

Not knowing whether to vomit or to cough Maiev suddenly felt the strange sensation that her body weighed too much for her to hold up any longer.

Her thin legs bent at the knees as she collapsed to the cold stone.

The convulsions began slowly, but at the return of her general weakness she quickly succumbed to such shaking that she exclaimed in mindless anxiety, “G-godd-dess… I…”

She blinked and shook on the ground, her body resembling that of a child’s as she curled inwards searching for relief.

‘I should have died there… I shouldn’t be drawing breath!’ she thought, ‘the pain… oh gods… the pain!’

Memories of Illidan’s touch, his laughing, his gloating, even his putrid demonic scent… All things she’d rather forget. They were the only thing similar to the vile nausea and pain, which she was wracked with now.

Lowly she moaned a hoarse cry and brought her fist down to the stone dais.

Her fingers throbbed with pain, but she succeeded in centering herself…

The nausea passed, the travel sickness waned, and now all that remained was her general exhaustion.

It now softened to what she knew she could bear.

Breathing normally she looked around, blinking rapidly, as she surveyed her surroundings.

The world of Azeroth was at rest too, it seemed. Night had cloaked the land, yet it must have been the night of new-moon… for Elune herself, the greater of the sky’s bodies, was hidden among the blackness of the evening heavens.

But now, breaking over the edges of the Blasted Land’s valley walls, mornings light began illumining the cratered and ruined surroundings of the Dark Portal.

Maiev forced her head to move upwards.

She looked towards the direction of the sun’s light.

“Sunrise?” she whispered.

Pushing herself out of her curled position she struggled as she innocently thought,

“A sunrise… I haven’t…”

Crawling towards the corner of the dais she forced herself to stand.

“Please I… if I could see it.”

Straightening Maiev stopped mid action as the warm rays of light caressed over the valley, it’s craggy rocks, and fissure-rent floor.

“I…” her voice was light and girlish.

The warmth beamed over her and she shut her eyes as it struck her face.

She laughed and held her right hand up and out so that the length of her arm’s flesh felt the heat of the light.

Smiling Maiev let out a laugh, “I… I know this feeling…”

“My world…”

She let her head lean backwards and she breathed deeply.

‘I’m not home yet but… I…’

The Kaldorei sighed heavily, “I’m that much closer _to home_…”

But the moment was not to last…

At the base of the portal’s steps came a voice and the din of arms, ripping her from the pleasant oasis of sunlight, Maiev’s eyes opened and she snapped to see who or what was calling.

“Who goes there?!”

The voice was that of one of the iron-clad pink skins.

Four humans, weapons drawn, and visors down stood eyeing the Kaldorei with concern.

Maiev swallowed and drew a breath through her nose.

‘These humans seem a more resolved mind then those I encountered before…’

The man closest the step was brandishing a sword and slowly approached; adjusting his grip upon the blade he now mounted the stairs.

Clearing her parched throat Maiev opened her lips and attempted to speak, carefully selecting her words as she quietly addressed the men.

“I am wounded, and a traveller…” she coughed and raised her empty right hand, clutching her left to her chest. “I seek only passage home…”

“Be steady men! It could be a demoness in guise…”

“Keep your arrow nocked.”

She watched the humans as they continued to view her apprehensively.

The man nearest her was now only a few steps away from the top of the dais, “If your words are truth, stay as still as if you were stone!”

Maiev blinked and looked at the mortal’s eyes through the slit in his helm’s visor.

“I have no quarrel with you humans…”

The man indicated her left arm, “What is it you’re hiding?”

She looked down, shaking her head, “I conceal only my injury. My arm is broken… If you’d a surgeon or doctor, perhaps I could see it set…”

The man furrowed his brow and looked the she-elf over.

He paused when he saw her bloody foot prints leading from the portal, together with her emaciated appearance, the ragged clothing, the sickly hair. The man finally relented. His heart shocked to be so close to the creature.

“You’re a prisoner?”

Maiev bit her tongue and remained quiet.

She entered into a staring contest with the human before she finally shook and regretfully gave in, “Unjustly…”

Before he could say anything more she lowered herself to her knees, extending her right hand palm upwards, pathetically…

“The demon who’d imprisoned me took all that I had and more…”

Biting her lip and lowering her head it took all that was left within Maiev’s soul to acknowledge what now was to happen.

“I fall upon your mercy, either by hand or by sword.”

The man looked away to his comrades for a moment.

Lowering his sword he stepped towards the woman hesitantly.

Though it was a whisper to him and completely inaudible to a fellow human Maiev heard him mutter, “Gods save me if I’m wrong…”

Reaching his left hand towards her right he lightly placed his gloved fingers onto hers.

“Our keep and company is north of here… We keep watch over the portal. I make no promises creature, but…”

He exhaled, “As a knight, my duty is to aid more than it is to hinder.”

Maiev let out a breath of relief which surprised her as the man looked to his comrades, “Bring the horses! We’re to ride for Nethergarde!”

…


End file.
